On My Journey, I am Walking By Faith
by OstentatiousNature
Summary: I spun aroundand caught my reflection in the window. Staring back at me was an angel. I was now an angel of hell. I had become the very creature I had loathed. My name was Carlisle Cullen. And thus began me story. Carlisle POV


**On My Journey, I am Walking By Faith**

By: Natilie Sawada

A/n: We're singing a song in my choir with this lyric in it and it is absolutely gorgeous and inspired me to write something for it. So after a while I thought it would work perfectly for a Carlisle story, because of all the Cullens, Carlisle has the most faith—the most hope.

I usually write one shots but I have this gut feeling that I wanna make this a multi-chapter fic. Possibly about the times before Carlisle changed Edward (time with the Volturi, coming to America, working as a doctor, ect)

I hope you enjoy!

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"To act justly and to love kindness

And to walk humbly with your God

To act justly and to love kindness

And to walk humbly with your God

On my journey, I am walking by faith

On my journey, I am walking by faith"

-A Journey of Faith

Based on Micah 6:6-8

Music by: Rollo Dilworth

Commission for the Michigan State University Children's Choir 2009

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CHAPTER 1: ASCENSION 

CARLISLE – AGE 15

I can remember the first time I saw one of us. The memory is clouded, murky, and filled with dots and spot, like a sepia-tone silent film, but I still can remember.

I thought she was an angel.

An honest to God angel.

Her face was so delicately perfect, the muscles and bones sculpted. Her skin was so pale and smooth and flawless. Her hair was so long and pale blonde and shimmered in the moonlight. Her physique was that boys my age only dreamed about—her legs impossibly long and slender, her waist curving at the perfect spot.

And when she spoke, her voice was a lilting flute.

"Are you lost?" I suppose anyone would have thought the same. The way I was dressed—a preacher's son—out in the back alleys of London at night.

"No, I'm not lost." I told the angel. She leaned in, her face holding the most perfect look of concern I had ever seen on someone's face.

"What is your name, boy?" As she spoke, her breath blew in my face…her sweet breath that smelled like heaven.

"C-Carlisle," I managed, a she looked me up and down with those eyes.

Those glowing red eyes.

"Carlisle…" she purred as she languidly reached out her hand to place it against my cheek. My eye widened the slightest bit at her touch. Her fingers were smooth and deathly cold against my cheek. "A good name for such a…handsome boy. So glad you came along. I was looking for a lost little kitten to play with." Her beautiful lips twisted into an evil smirk, her red eyes seeming to glow in the darkness.

"I-I know what you are!" I stuttered. The angel seemed amused. I quickly shoved my hand into my coat pocket, fumbling around to find the miniature wooden cross Father had given me.

"Oh, and what would that be?" She asked.

I quickly whipped it out, holding the cross two inches from her face.

The angel did not even flinch.

Instead, she began to laugh, beginning as a slow chuckle but escalating into a full cackle.

"Foolish mortal!" She screeched. At lighting speed, with the hand not still pressed against my face, she backhanded my hand holding the wood, and the cross flew out of my hand, smashing into the brick of the alley as I cried out at the feeling of one of my fingers snapping. "When will you realize that _we_ are the superior race!" She shoved me back against the alley wall, so I felt cold stone on both my front and my back. "Do you know how many little girls and boys have tried that on me?! Thinking a little piece of wood can protect them from _me_!"

Then suddenly, her features relaxing into a coy smile.

"Why, where are my manners," she purred. Her mouth hovered beside my ear. "I apologize, Carlisle." A puff of cold sweet air blew against my neck, making goosebumps raise on my arms. I just stood there, rigid as a board against the brick wall, my finger aching. "How can I ever make it…" my eyes shot wide open as I felt a cold tongue lick a slight way up my jaw line "…up to you." I watched as she drew her head back, her eyes closed as she licked her lips. "Mmm…you taste simply delicious."

I thought I was going to die there, in that alley on that night. By the hands of this creature.

She opened her eyes and stared back at me with her otherworldly beauty and those deep, hypnotizing red eyes of a predator.

"You know what I do to little children who try to kill me with their garlic, and their stakes, and their useless prayers?" I was frozen—unable to move, unable to speak, unable to breathe. "I snap their pitiful little necks."

Through the numbing cloud of fear that had descended on my brain, remorse shot clear through me. All those lives—all those futures…snuffed out in the blink of an eye. And now my life would be added to the list.

"Forgive me, Father," I whispered almost inaudibly. _Forgive me for being so reckless._

But to my surprise, there creature paused, new light of recognition sparking in her eyes.

"You're ­_that_ Carlisle. Pastor Cullen's boy, aren't you?" I squared my jaw and didn't answer. "What a clueless man. Thinks he's doing God's work. He kills more innocents than he saves. It really is annoying—makes the pickings slimmer."

"Too bad I won't be able to deliver the message," I said with quiet anger.

"Yes, how ironic that the son that wants nothing to do with his witch hunts is the one who discovers the _real_ monsters." She regarded me again, her eyes sweeping up and down me for a long moment.

"Are you going to talk all night?" I asked. "My blood isn't going to drink itself."

"Silence, human!" The angel shrieked. My fear had evaporated—the only thing left in me was anger. Anger for this creature that took pleasure in ending life. She lunged for me and—

Well, the events of the rest of that night happened in fast forward. Some villagers from town showed up with impeccable timing, bearing torches. The angel creature tried to fight them off, but ended up retreating before she could do any real damage to me or any of the others.

During my next encounter, however, I would not be so lucky.

CARLISLE – AGE 22

"Jonathan, hurry!" I whispered as the crowd of men moved silently through the dark cobbled streets of London in the seventeen-sixties. My father knew nothing of tonight's activities, but I knew that this was no witch hunt I was on.

Tonight I was hunting angels.

I'd spied on sneaking back into this specific sewer about a week ago, and had watched it carefully since then, and confirmed my theories. There seemed to be three of them living in that dark dank little hole in the earth.

Which was exactly the kind of place they should have stayed in to start with.

Murders had been reported with the tell-tale signs, and I knew. Unlike my father, I knew the true nature of these creatures. They did not have elongated teeth. Nor did they catch fire when exposed to sunlight.

No, these creatures were different from the legends. But in the main ways they were still the same.

They still ended human life.

And that was all that mattered to me.

All of my men took their places—waiting; watching for the creatures to slink out from their daytime lair to hunt.

And finally the time came. We burst from our hiding places and descended upon the creatures with shouts ringing out through the crisp night air.

Two of the creatures snarled and leapt into the fight, their eyes wild and glowing read, their hands and teeth ripping at someone—I couldn't see.

For my attention had been drawn by another figure, not more than fifteen feet away, where two more of my men had lunged at another creature as it skulked from the shadows. The creature was old, and not quite as perfect; as angelic featured as the other two, though he was quite beautiful. His features were twisted into a furrow of pain as he hobbled along the street.

He batted the two men away from him as if they were nothing more than balled up pieces of parchment.

Then his eyes locked with mine—dark black to light blue.

His eyes sparked with hunger, and with a deafening snarl he lunged at me.

I tried to run—I was fast—but suddenly, the creature was behind me, tackling me to the ground, his nails digging into my arms as he pinned me to the ground, his teeth ripping at my neck and drinking my blood—_my_ blood; my life force—draining it out of my body.

I cried out in a fevered scream as fire began to lick at the place in my neck, expanding in waves as the pain ripped; grated across my nerve endings.

Through eyes blurred with tears of pain, I saw a crowd of shadows rip the creature off me and haul him away from my eyesight. My vision swam, and through I could see the hazy blur of firelight.

I bit my lip as the pain rocked through me again. I had to get out of here.

I don't know how I managed to gather the strength to haul myself to my feet and dash into another alley. The agony was getting worse, tearing at my insides sickeningly.

The creature had diseased me. I was going to die.

I threw myself to the ground, vaguely surprised through the burning that it was not cold stone I collided with. I recognized the smell of potatoes…bad potatoes, but it held no interest.

I could not cry out. I realized that just before I felt a scream of anguish rise in my throat. I locked it there, in my throat, and it burned like I had swallowed acid.

I could not scream. If I did, someone would find me, and I might infect them too with the horrible disease.

I don't know how long I lay there.

Days. Days of burning.

I thought I had died. Died and gone to Hell for my sins. Isn't this always what Father had preached? That if you do not do good, your soul shall arrive in Hell in the afterlife and you will be forced to burn for eternity for your sins.

That's what it felt like. I was descending to Hell.

So you could guess I was surprised of course, when at last the pain began to fade. Not fade, per say, but lessen in my fingertips.

But this was Hell, I reasoned. The afterlife. There should not be an end.

But indeed, after a forever it seemed of the pain slowly fading, I opened my eyes.

This was not Hell. It looked like London.

I laughed at the analogy.

But then when I stood up, the unnerving ease of my movement send chills down my spine. I spun around—so fast that the world around me seemed to slow in comparison—and caught my reflection in the window.

Staring back at me was an angel. Just like I had seem before.

I was an angel of Hell, and angel of death.

I was now one of the creatures I had sworn I would rid of this earth.

I had become the very creature I had loathed.

My name was Carlisle Cullen.

And thus began my story.

~End of Chapter One~

Tee hee hee

I'm leaving on Spring Break tonight, so I won't get another chapter up for probably two or three weeks.

But a review might get me writing faster ^_^  
THANKS!


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